


Joker's Wild

by Alhazred



Series: Joker's Wild [1]
Category: Mass Effect
Genre: Bisexual Male Character, Flirting, Gay Male Character, M/M, Romance, Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-01-14
Updated: 2011-01-14
Packaged: 2017-10-14 18:10:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 8,362
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/152048
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alhazred/pseuds/Alhazred
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Joker as a Mass Effect 2 romance option: After a good long while of feeling lonely in space, Dylan stumbles into a little romance.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Suicide Survived, part 1

**Author's Note:**

> Mass Effect © Bioware / EA et al, not for profit work.

Dylan felt like a virgin all over again.

This feeling made him feel completely foolish, starting a terrible cycle that went nowhere but downhill into more self-deprecation. “Twenty-nine years old,” technically thirty-one, he reminded himself, with the two years he'd spent on the Lazarus table added on. “Survived Threshers, Reapers, Collectors, first human Spectre...and I feel worse than a sixteen-year-old with first-time jitters.” Pausing his informal summary of the situation to himself, Dylan sat up on his bed and moved to the the edge, intent on getting up, but finding that his legs didn't really agree with him. Leaning forward, arms resting on his knees, he thought out-loud, “Big damn hero. Right.”

It'd been so long, was the problem.

Not that Dylan was above one-night stands or had any particular trouble making them happen. Just because he took being an Alliance Marine seriously didn't change the fact that the uniform made it _really_ easy to pick up guys. It was more of a blessing than he would ever admit out-loud, because the uniform and the shape he kept himself in didn't just make it easy to get laid, it made it easy to have _standards._ Poking at the empty pockets on the side of his leg, he thought about what must've gone into the Cerberus uniform he now wore; Miranda had said they kept a structure similar to the Alliance, the uniform seemed to go along with that, like a standard Alliance Class-A but sleeker, more impressive.

Soon enough, Dylan's mind stopped wandering. No, the real problem was actual human companionship, or lack thereof. That Dylan had to spend time thinking back to remember his last honest-to-god steady boyfriend instead of having a memory on the top of his head was telling. Of course, there was a reason for it; honest love and commitment didn't always survive half of a relationship having the responsibility of military service. Sometimes it did, but Dylan wasn't one of the lucky ones in that respect.

That he always seemed to be the only goddamned homosexual in any given star cluster didn't help matters, either. He'd have figured that he'd have met _someone_ in his travels that might actually return some interest. Maybe one day, if Alenko ever spoke to him again, he'd confess to the man that he chose to save his life over another because of personal feelings that had _no_ place influencing a decision like that, personal feelings that sure as hell weren't reciprocated anyway. If Alenko didn't hate him even more for it, he'd probably hate him for being much weaker than everyone thought, too weak to keep something personal like that away from combat.

If Ash was up there looking down at him right now, he didn't think she'd be very amused, either.

Not that Dylan believed in such things. No, definitely not.

The door chime went off and Dylan's head twisted around to look at the entrance to his quarters, like his trained reflexes expected a not-Legion Geth to be standing there, if not worse.

This would, he thought, have been so much easier if Joker had just propositioned him for a quick fuck. But no, there had to be _dialog_ and _choices_ to make and _consequences_ to consider. This just had to _mean_ something. Not being Alliance military anymore and thus, not breaking regs despite everything else wasn't much of a comfort.

When the door chime went off again, Dylan Shepard forced himself to have some resolve and stood up. He wasn't in this situation because he didn't want to be, he reminded himself. It was a fact he'd reminded himself of every time he didn't think he could survive one more day at boot camp, or one more day at Advanced Infantry Training on Titan, or another go at practicing the biotic charge that Cerberus' cutting-edge L5n implants enabled him to do until it wouldn't give him a nosebleed.

When Dylan reached the door and opened it, years of experience in the field and the training that he'd gone through to get there in the first place were the only reasons he didn't let his shock slip out in any kind of gesture or uncontrolled words. Joker was still halfway hunched over like usual, standing in his best approximation of parade-rest. It wasn't anything about that Dylan almost let his mouth go slack over.

It was the fact that Joker was clean-shaven. He'd actually _shaved._ And knowing him, he was probably well aware of how surprising this was, he just chose to be an ass and pretend everything was perfectly normal. “Booze?” He smiled after he'd had enough of the awkward moment with the awkward staring and _really_ awkward silence.

When he pulled his hands out from behind his back, one holding a pair of glasses stolen from the galley, and one holding a bottle of wine, Dylan finally snapped out of of his Joker-induced trance and smiled. “Sure.”

 


	2. Two Weeks Earlier

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two weeks ago, and having a conversation with Joker was still as silly as ever.

The SR2's Kodiak shuttle was, like everything else about the ship, shiny and new. Cerberus certainly spared no expense. For the first time, however, Dylan didn't bounce out of it with the air of a confidant commander or the satisfaction of a job accomplished. Time was starting to catch up to him in more ways than one.

Thirty-one was older than twenty. Even if he didn't count the two years he'd been laying on the Lazarus table, twenty-nine was still plenty older than twenty. The Illusive Man was proud of bringing him back 'unchanged,' and Miranda was proud of the technical accomplishment if not the lack of a control chip in his head, but 'unchanged' had its downsides. The cybernetics meant to replace or at least hold up parts of his body that the technicians couldn't rebuild perfectly didn't change the fact that his limits had shortened.

At almost-thirty, because damned if he was going to be _thirty_ already so long as he had an excuse to think of himself as a couple of years younger, Dylan wasn't over the hill yet. After three days of no sleep and running around Illium to find Krios and Samara before being confronted with Grunt's unexpected, if not inappropriate need to get to Tuchanka.

He needed to take a shower and get some sleep. There was still work to do, though, so it would wait until he could at least set a new destination. That accomplished, he trudged up to the cockpit, where EDI obediently floated on her holographic emitter next to Joker.

Joker himself, who would be more prone to call EDI 'annoying' instead of 'obedient,' soon turned around in his chair. “Hey, Commander. Nice job with Grunt and Mordin's problems. Glad to know we're not the only ones with drama. Probably the only ones who go around killing Threshers like it's easy. Well, you, 'cause I sure don't, obviously.”

Realizing that this was Joker's way of making a compliment, Dylan let his posture slump a little so his muscles could un-tense. He felt way too wired, like his brain hadn't been able to get out of combat just yet. “I try to avoid drama, Joker, but it just tends to find me.”

“Well, that's why I'm happy just where I am,” Joker reclined back in his seat as much as he could, the leather squeeking underneath him. “Get to have all the adventure, most of the pay and none of the bad attention. And...none of the good attention, either, I guess that's a downside. I mean, I can only guess why you don't pay attention to all the chicks hitting on you constantly, but send some my way, would you?”

“Not interested, is all,” Dylan answered, truthfully. Still, he wondered how much Joker's humor here was just a gag and how much might've been covering something up. Considering that Joker's well-being was just as important to him as the rest of the crew's, Dylan decided to just ask. He'd never thought about Joker enough, and it really wasn't fair. “You're not...lonely, are you?”

Head tilting to the side, Joker said, “Strange thing to ask, there, Commander. Regret turning Liara and Miranda down all of a sudden?”

“No, I just...well.” Joker himself suited Dylan more than Liara, he almost said. He didn't want to sound like he was making a come-on, though. Pausing to think of decent words, Dylan continued with, “It's just that you're about the only friend I have who doesn't have an awful past haunting them. The only one that doesn't tell me about it, at least.” Another pause. “Don't get me wrong, I care; it's just harder to care when you don't say anything.”

“Harder to pay attention to me, you mean?” Joker shrugged. Before Dylan could answer, he added, “S'alright. No deep, dark secrets from me, my disease is my great big source of angst. Seriously, though, if you're going to turn down Miranda, too, tell her I'm game. Hell, she probably doesn't play nice, but that'd be worth some cracked ribs.”

Silent until now, EDI finally got in on the conversation. “Ms. Lawson is unlikely to reciprocate your desires, Mister Moreau. Her psychological profile suggests she is unused to the interaction a relationship requires as a side-effect of the effort she puts into her work.”

“Just a joke, EDI,” Joker sighs. “Next she'll be giving me the birds and the bees talk or warning me I should still use condoms when I'm on my knees. 'Oral sex is still sex! You don't know where he's put that!'”

“My vernacular is somewhat...less excited than the way you describe, Mister Moreau.”

Dylan didn't even hear EDI. The conversation had taken one hell of a bizarre turn, to the point where he wondered if he was dreaming. Had Joker just, in an extremely casual manner, said what he _thought_ he'd said? “Wait, 'on your knees?'”

What seemed like a very long silence followed, the sounds of the Normandy cruising along and the hum of the engines vibrating through the hull the equivalent of crickets chirping in the background. Eyes blinking twice, Joker said, “Did you...not know I swing both ways?”

Crossing his arms and leaning against the bulkhead, Dylan regarded Joker with something like playfulness. This day had gone from tiring to strange. “ _Should_ I?”

“Yes!” Joker protested. And then; “Well...no, it's not like I make a big deal out of it. Except for right now, but this is by accident. But, you don't need to worry or anything, it's not like I'm one of those depraved bisexuals. Just, you know, it's easier with guys sometimes. My legs aren't so trashed I can't kneel. Plus, I get to undress you with my eyes every time you come to see me for my meaningful insight, Commander.” Tone of voice obviously geared for more joking, Joker nevertheless didn't realize how this sounded until he'd already set it. One more awkward silence later, during which time Dylan looked himself over self-consciously, Joker said, “Uh...that was creepier than I meant.”

“It's okay, Joker.” Dylan was, after all, almost thirty. Maybe it was inappropriate, but after depressing himself over how a few measly days without sleep made him want to keel over and die, being told he was attractive made him feel a lot better. “I appreciate the flattery. And the honesty.”

“Well, that's good,” Joker said. “I feel a little less like I rammed my foot into my mouth, now.”

“That figure of speech is somewhat inappropriate to the situation at hand, Mister Moreau.”

“Thanks, EDI,” Joker rolled his eyes. “I so care.”

He turned to leave before Joker could say anything else, smiling the entire time. All of that weirdness aside, he still had a set of armor to peel off, a shower to stand under and a bed to drop into.


	3. One Week Earlier

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One week ago, Dylan wasn't expecting butterflies in his stomach.

“Anything you need, Commander?”

Why Dylan had made the journey all the way to the cockpit right now wasn't really clear to him, but in all the chaos of getting away from the Collector trap and finding out Tali was about to get royally screwed over by her people for no good reason - that girl was as much of a traitor as Kaidan Alenko was, Dylan thought - not talking to Joker seemed like a faux-pas. “Just wanted to say 'thanks' for getting us away from the Collectors.”

“Oh hey, anytime, Commander,” Joker was positively glowing, any compliment always serving to fuel his ego. Nobody ever called him on it because his ego was well-deserved. He didn't say anything after that, though, and when Dylan didn't turn to leave, his face fell, like he knew why. “Um...yeah, about last time, sorry about that, just let my mouth run away without me. You know how it is.”

Arms crossing, Dylan leaned against the bulkhead and grinned down at him, amused by Joker's discomfort at dealing with people. “That's how you always are, Joker.”

“Well...yes,” Joker drawled out, not really wanting to admit it, “But it was pretty bad that time.”

“I never said I was bothered by it,” Dylan said. He didn't have any reason not to take it further; the fact that this was Joker, of all people, he was talking to entered his mind, but Joker was a good friend despite everything. “I told you, I didn't mind.”

“Well, most guys would, is all. Not everyone's open-minded. Even if it's not the guy-on-guy thing it's still weird getting hit on like that, is all.”

Suddenly, Dylan wondered just how seriously Joker took this. “You were hitting on me? Not just enjoying the view?”

“No,” Joker's eyes were wide with feigned innocence. “Just flirting. Hey, guy can dream.”

An evil little smile drawing across his mouth, Dylan said, “Who said you have to dream?”

Joker's eyes stayed wide, but the look on his face clearly turned to surprise. “Wait, what? Really? Since when do you...”

“Since forever,” Dylan straightened up.

“Not interested in women,” Joker's eyes narrowed as he said this, hindsight kicking in. “Right. Well...that's...not where I expected this conversation to go.”

“Honestly, me neither,” Dylan shrugged. He'd never looked at Joker like this before, but there was something to it now. Whether that something was legitimate or just the result of a strange conversation, he wasn't sure, but he wasn't afraid to find out. “It's not often someone shows interest that's...well. My type.”

“Right,” Joker repeated, the word taking an entire breath. “Can I, uh, have some time to think about this conversation? 'Cause if I don't, I think my nose is going to start bleeding. Or worse.”

“Sure,” Dylan turned and left, winking as he did. He felt ridiculous as soon as he did it, wondered why he did, but decided that it was too late to fix it, so he just kept going, enjoying the lighter feeling in his boots.


	4. Two Days Earlier

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two days ago, and Joker had some pent-up frustration.

It was, in the briefing room with Joker sitting on the table defending himself from Miranda's spur-of-the-moment outrage that he hadn't been able to do more during the attack, when Dylan realized he honestly, no lie, no excuses, cared for the man.

It wasn't so much of a revelation as it was a logical conclusion. Being lovestruck was a state of being he'd long since lost the ability to experience; his life was too dominated by training, too calculated by precision for such things. That didn't stop the signs from being there, and it didn't stop him from being barely able to hold a conversation about their missing crew because he was so goddamned _thankful_ Joker was still here.

Not that he didn't care. He wouldn't have been determined to move their asses through the Omega-4 Relay as soon as they could get through a checklist of everything they needed to hit the Collectors back. To get the crew back.

The others would take care of that. They would make sure they weren't missing anything, that their guns were in tip-top shape, that their omni-tools and amps were calibrated to perfection. EDI would make sure the ship was good to go.

Dylan Shepard, meanwhile, would walk so fast through the CIC and down to the cockpit that had there still been anyone to watch, it would be no less obvious that something was on his mind than if he'd broken out into a run.

He wouldn't be feeling like this, wouldn't be feeling like his stomach had a hole in it or absolute terror over what might have happened, not what did, but what _might_ have happened, if Joker wasn't important. If he didn't mean something more than just being a silly friend.

When Joker turned in his chair, it was almost normal...only at first. “Commander. Sorry about the crew, I...no, you know what, I'm _not_ sorry, what the hell were you _doing,_ leaving us here where Collectors could work us over!”

Every word hurt, every single one. Dylan had let the crew down, and he'd let Joker down. It was Virmire all over again, a sick retrospective saving Kaidan when Williams would've been the better choice. Now, as much as he told himself he cared more about the crew as a whole than just letting Joker down...he didn't.

That Joker hated him hurt more than losing the others, and he hated himself for it. As far as Dylan thought, he deserved this.

“Because you know what, I should...I should just go,” Joker kept going, “Next port, I should just get out of here.”

The hole in Dylan's stomach suddenly doubled in size as he took in Joker's words, as he felt the weight of his resentment and realized that he couldn't even deny his own fault. The Normandy was his ship, these people were his responsibility. Maybe he couldn't have known what would happen, but he _should've_ known. He should've been able to stop it.

“You do not mean that, Jeff.”

EDI's words hung in the air for the second it took Joker to answer. “Yes, I do!” He tensed...and then slouched, the anger leaving his voice. “I...no, but...it felt good. I'm sorry, Commander. Okay, I'm good, I'm ready. I'm ready to save the day."

Relief that Joker wasn't going anywhere wasn't any better, strangely. Dylan didn't feel like he deserved absolution that easily. “Joker, I...”

He didn't know what to say. Joker, for his part, didn't say anything either...he just pushed himself up out of his chair, heaving himself to his feet with great effort as if speed was important, as if he would lose the ability to go through with what he was doing if he took too long, not from nerves but because it felt like this was just a window of opportunity, one he could either take or miss.

Still silent, Dylan just locked eyes with him, waiting for whatever was coming, more words, maybe, but Joker still didn't say anything, didn't try to punch him in the face to make himself feel better. Quicker than he thought Joker really capable of moving, he reached out and grabbed the collar of Dylan's armor, yanking back, pulling himself more towards Dylan than the other way around, but it didn't matter. The end result was the same, Joker planted his lips straight on Dylan's and practically bit them off.

There wasn't any question about it for Dylan, he didn't shove Joker away or make him stop. He reached one arm up around Joker's back and pulled him in close, eyes closed, Joker's beard tingly against his skin, the kiss rough solely for how much they pushed at each other, wanting more and more because they'd come so close to missing the chance. He had to stop himself from letting go and squeezing Joker tight with both arms, had to remind himself that he couldn't shove Joker up against the wall or even pull too hard, had to stop himself from acting like he usually did when he was with someone.

Until now, it hadn't been something he'd ever consciously thought of. Being dominant, being at least a little rough was just natural for him. It was how he handled the physical part of a relationship, being with someone more masculine than he was felt like a challenge, not necessarily someone to subjugate, but someone to take charge of. He'd had his fair share of _less_ masculine partners, too, and that only encouraged him even more.

There wasn't really time to go over this now. They didn't have time to get serious. He just tried to enjoy it until they finally had to stop for breath.

“I do care about you, Joker,” Dylan sighed, the admission feeling liberating and dangerous at the same time. “I wish we had time to...when this is over...”

Joker looked just like he usually did, hunched over, legs bent awkwardly, but he somehow looked better. Optimistic, even. He didn't feel a need to say the obvious, that this entire thing being over might very well mean their _lives_ would be over. “When it's over, we'll see where it goes.”

“Agreed.”


	5. One Day Earlier

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One day ago, and Dylan needed a nap after surviving the unsurvivable.

If any sight had ever meant more to Dylan than Joker hobbling to the airlock and firing on Collectors with a rifle that probably bruised him with the kickback from every shot, he wasn't sure what it was. At least equaled by his crew, loyal and more importantly, alive, pulling him up into the airlock.

Talking to the Illusive Man was a thing he did on auto-pilot, grateful for the helmet of his new Collector-inspired armor and how it hid his eyes. He could glare without putting any effort into it. He could get his point across and leave the briefing room without using up the last of his reserves.

It wasn't that Dylan was unhappy. He'd gotten everyone out alive, he'd gotten there in time to save the ship's crew, and the Collectors were gone.

The adrenaline was gone, too. Even the best possible outcome couldn't have lessened the toll it had taken, and when he got to his cabin, he couldn't manage the walk over to the table behind the display case to put his helmet down before it just fell out of his hand.

His cabin was, all things considered, better off than other parts of the ship. The tanks were intact and the display case still held his models in place. Everything on his desk was scattered all over the floor, though. His hamster was scurrying around near its tank, unsure what to do about its home being turned on its side. He somehow managed to pick both up and set the tank back where he'd put it on the shelf, only to watch the occupant scurry around his glove for a little while.

It seemed a little bothered by the Collector material. He couldn't blame it; useful though it may have been, benign though it may have been compared to the skin of an actual Collector, the source couldn't be denied.

He put the hamster back and trudged on, thinking somewhere in the back of his mind that he should peel the rest of the Chitin material off before cranking the shower on, but he didn't do that, he let the torrent of water splash down his head and over the armor, sweat washing off his face, dirt and grime and alien blood washing off the suit as he leaned his back against the wall, the water stinging the Lazarus scars around his jawline like usual, but more acute even though they'd healed considerably at this point.

His legs soon lost their will to support his weight and he slid down, the water scalding, but not unwelcome, mostly brown by the time it was on the floor and running to the drain, at least until the armor had no more dirt to wash off.

It wasn't long before the door to his cabin opened. That shouldn't have happened, he was the only one with clearance to his quarters, and he certainly hadn't let anyone in.

“Commander?”

Joker. Tired as he was, Dylan could see what was going on here; either EDI had told Joker he needed help, or Joker was concerned and convinced EDI to let him in.

“Commander Shepard?” Not having the energy to be mad about it, not sure if he even should've been, Dylan just stayed silent as Joker explored his quarters long enough to see him hunched over against the un-blocked shower wall. “Jesus.”

Finally looking up when hobbled footsteps sounded off the bathroom floor and the water turned off, Dylan watched as Joker reached down, feeling like he wasn't seeing through his own eyes until Joker grabbed his arm. “C'mon, I can't pick you up on my own, you know.”

It took Dylan a few seconds to process that, but he finally pushed off the floor, walking slowly as Joker guided him back out, the water dripping off the Chitin material where the skin didn't soak it up to keep itself hydrated.

Joker wasted no time in peeling it off him, not an entirely hard process considering the material on his upper body was all one piece that opened down the middle of the front, right down through the muscles. The armor made a squishy sound when it unlocked and expanded to a greater size, allowing for Joker to slip it off of him. “That's really gross.”

Dylan didn't mind. It was good armor. For some reason, Collector technology or not, he felt attached to it. Like it was a combat buddy. He didn't disagree, though. “Yeah.”

The greaves, boots and trousers were more complicated; Joker yanked the covers back on the bed and nudged Dylan to sit down, dropping to his knees to get the buckles off one at a time. Getting all of the gear off left Joker staring up at his informal CO sitting on his bed, tiredly, in a pair of boxer-briefs, standard Cerberus issue like everything else they had now, just enough like Alliance stuff that it was a reminder of what they didn't have anymore. “C'mon, get some sleep.”

Practically being tucked in, Dylan tried to think of some reason to resist Joker lying him down, the effort enough to keep him from falling asleep when his head hit the pillow. “Joker...”

“Hush, Dill.”

Christ, no one had called him that since he'd asked his mother to stop it. “Joker...”

“No. Hush. Quiet. Sleep.” Joker grabbed onto his hand, holding tight. “You earned it. We won. _You_ won. Get some sleep. Whatever else, there's time now. Us, the others, stopping the big robot cephalopods...think about it once you're not dead on your feet.”

Dylan didn't expect Joker to stay with him until he fell asleep, but he did.

It didn't take long, anyway.


	6. Several Hours Earlier

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A few hours ago, Mordin felt the need to give some advice.

Having a real shower and a fresh change of clothes did wonders for Dylan. Having the time to talk to Joker was, however, nerve-wracking.

Having the time to think about it didn't help matters. He wasn't having second thoughts, but he was having _worries._ When Joker's condition and how a relationship of any kind with him would work because of it hadn't been on his priority list, he hadn't seen any potential problems.

Now, though...Dylan was wondering if he could handle it. Joker was unexplored territory. He wasn't even like a woman, women weren't that breakable. It was just something completely different, something he wasn't prepared for. He liked making the headboards hit the wall when he was with a man, and that wouldn't fly here.

The more he thought about it, the more he realized he didn't think of this as a deal breaker. The thought of breaking it off with Joker before anything even happened wasn't appealing to him. It would just be immature to be hung up over the particulars of sex, and they weren't in high-school.

This just meant he had to _deal_ with it, and that wasn't a happy thought, either.

Dylan felt ashamed at the idea that he could use checking up on the crew now that the mission was done as an excuse to avoid Joker as long as possible while he thought about these things.

He did it anyway, soon finding himself in the lab where Mordin was still working on god knew what despite the mission being over and done with. He had a feeling Mordin was here to stay, really. “Shepard; how can I help?”

“Have you got a minute to talk?” About the aftermath of the mission, or what to do about the Reapers, Dylan was thinking.

“Actually, wanted to talk. Medical matters.”

What with Mordin being a veritable fountain of intellect, Dylan didn't particularly like the idea that he wanted to talk about 'medical matters.' Medical matters that would trouble Mordin started at plagues, grew to the Collectors' seeker swarms, and...well, Dylan wasn't sure he wanted to know what could be worse.

Whether or not what Mordin said next actually _was_ worse, Dylan wasn't sure. “Aware that mission was dangerous. Different species react differently to stress. Sexual activity common for humans in such times, understand it intellectually. Still, recommend caution. Joker's condition counterproductive to such activities. Must compensate. Recommend you plan ahead of time to avoid more...high-impact activities.”

It was definitely worse. That he and Joker had basically agreed to have sex in the near future seemed like a tasteless, sterile way of looking at the entire thing to Dylan. It was also a little easier to accept on such terms given the awkwardness.

For about five seconds, he wondered how Mordin _knew_ about it, until it dawned on him that since EDI practically eavesdropped on the entire ship twenty-four/seven, she'd probably asked Mordin to have this conversation with him. Hell, they'd kissed right in front of her in the cockpit, so to speak. He didn't find it insulting that she didn't trust him to think about this issue, because it saved him the trouble of having to say it out loud to anyone, and maybe talking about it before talking to Joker would help. “I intend to be cautious, Doctor.” This, somehow, felt less awkward than the actual issue. Knowing that Mordin was looking at this purely from a scientific standpoint was oddly comforting. It was like having all the benefits of a concerned friend and none of the judgments. Although, Dylan wasn't so sure he needed concern, either. “But Joker is important to me, you're not gonna scare me off.”

“Of course; hormones.” Nodding once, Mordin emphasized, “Regardless, caution.”

Hell, it was free advice from a good source. No reason Dylan could see not to run with it. “Do you have a recommendation as a doctor?”

“Biotic ability also gives benefits. Forwarding advice booklet to your quarters, helpful diagrams, enjoyable positions with minimal load-bearing for one partner as well as inventive uses of mass-effect fields.” Smiling again, Mordin brought up his omnitool and started hitting buttons. “Advise against attempting to increase...length. Results often unpredictable. Sometimes messy.”

His eyebrows slowly crawling up his head as he processed that last part, Dylan said, “Wait...messy?”

“Yes, saw it many times on Omega, sexual deviance rampant in some districts. Very hard to keep accurate files, patients often tell reception they have a cold, only tell truth to doctor. Extremely awkward. Suggest using biotics to lighten Joker's mass, may allow for more,” Mordin coughed slightly, “High-impact activities.”

Actually scratching his head, Dylan wondered why Mordin came back to that. “What do you mean by 'high-impact,' exactly?”

“Apologies,” Mordin blinked, his face falling slightly, as if he felt shame over making an error, but no real guilt. “Research on human same-gender relations suggested correlation between wish for abrasive activities and occupation. Correlation positive in occupations such as construction worker or Alliance Marine. Simply wished to be thorough.”

Mordin was, Dylan realized, stereotyping. About rough sex, no less. He was stereotyping correctly, but Dylan wasn't going to admit that. He knew it would somehow get back to Kelly, and then he'd never hear the end of it. Besides, Alliance Marines were also stereotyped as being able to readily adapt to given situations, and Dylan was perfectly capable of proving that one correct, too.

When Dylan didn't say anything, Mordin added, “Enjoy yourself while possible, Shepard. Will be here studying cell reproduction. Much simpler; less alcohol and lubrication required.”

All things considered, Dylan was glad Mordin didn't seem to expect an answer.

He wasn't even sorry that he had no more excuses to avoid Joker anymore, and he was even grateful that he didn't have to wait for the elevator to see him. The confidence didn't really last for the walk to the cockpit, but Dylan didn't care. He wasn't going to screw this up by running away, literally or figuratively.

For the first time, when Joker spun his chair around, he was quiet.

The stare they gave each other was practically a biotic barrier. “So,” Dylan managed.

“Right,” Joker said. “This is kinda' awkward.”

“It's not,” Dylan said, firmly. He sighed, and glanced down at the floor, knowing it was an obvious lie. “It's not you, it's me.”

“Oh, here we go,” the noise Joker let out was even more depressing, and he looked at the floor longer. “Not that I don't expect this, but...chrissakes, Commander, if you just decided I'm too much work, say so, don't pussyfoot around it. It's like telling a Quarian it's not the suit that's the problem. It really _doesn't_ help things.”

Staring wordlessly again, trying to figure out how this had gone so wrong already, Dylan said, “What? No, that's...that's not what I'm doing. I don't want to break this off.”

“Oh.” By now, it was like a comedy routine, only they were _both_ the punchline. Fortunately, Joker wasn't bothered by a situation like that. “Well, that's good. What is it, then?”

“It _is_ that. You. Your condition, I mean,” Dylan started cracking his knuckles, unsure how to say it any other way. Maybe just being honest about it even though it wasn't a deal breaker was still the right way to go. “It's something I have to handle, and it's just...not what I'm used to. _You're_ not what I'm used to. I usually don't even go for guys with beards.” At the look Joker gave him, which Dylan was sure he usually reserved for EDI, he added, “What I mean is, this isn't just a quick lay to me.”

“Oh,” Joker's eyes went wide. “Well, that's...good to hear, it'll be nice not to wake up alone for once.” Another pause, more awkwardness. “We're still going to _do_ that though, right? 'Cause, I mean, we know what we want, and there's really no reason not to.” One more pause before Joker added, “And I really want to take your shirt off and drool, just saying.”

This conversation, Dylan thought, turned out to be a good idea after all. “Definitely.”


	7. Suicide Survived, part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the here and now, Dylan is glad he's stepping outside his comfort zone.

Maybe the wine had helped Dylan's nerves, maybe he'd just naturally gotten over it as the night turned into early morning, 0100 hours rolling around so fast he could hardly believe he and Joker had been talking, just talking like better friends than they'd been, for three hours straight.

It'd seemed perfectly natural, the way he'd moved from the chair to the couch where Joker had first sat, the way they'd both moved an hour after that, Dylan practically carrying him just to make _sure_ he made it to the bed without tripping and breaking something. He didn't have to worry about it anymore, neither of them have felt a need to get up from where they lay, side by side.

As fast as Dylan had this realization, he dismissed it as anything to care about. For once, he cared about what Joker was saying for more than its entertainment value, listening intently, both hands up behind his head, turned enough to look at the man he was sharing his bed with even if it was more literal than anything else so far.

There was still plenty of entertainment, though. “So after graduation, this girl, like, we had the worst rivalry in our class, we _hated_ each other, of course it turned out I was better, you know that part already,” he paused, downing the contents of his glass, setting it on the nightstand before continuing. “At the reception, she starts hitting on me. For real. I just never even thought it was that kind of rivalry, you know? So I'm all ready to go, except this is me when I was still a young pup, still ignorant in the ways of proper seduction.”

Pulling his arms down and letting them rest at his sides, Dylan cracked a smile, not enough alcohol in his system to be drunk with, but enough for Joker to have a haze around his face, certainly enough for him to give Joker the benefit of the doubt instead of commenting on his _current_ skill at seduction. That they were getting more cuddly in bed at that very moment certainly helped. “Didn't end the way you wanted it to, I'm guessing?”

“Mmm-hmm,” Joker sighed at the memory, “Her big brother came looking for me to break me in half for trying to get into her pants.

“How'd he not?” Dylan's smile broadened a little, “Break you in half, I mean?”

“I told him I'd go for a threesome if he was up for it.” Pausing just to grin slightly, Joker said, “Probably not the best choice of words.”

“I take it he was flustered enough to back off,” Shepard chuckled, “Or you'd still be in traction.”

Joker, not entirely with a straight face, answered, “He wasn't up for it.”

Taking a deep breath, glancing up at the ceiling, Dylan thought back on his fears over this and realized he'd long since gotten over it. It wasn't just being on a buzz, either. Joker's hand slowly finding his own, fingers lacing together, felt good. Dylan hadn't thought 'yeah, but it's _Joker_ ' in quite awhile. “Guess it's a good thing I am, then.”

Glancing down at their hands held together, Joker said, “That was the first time I ever came out to anyone. I just hated being the crippled kid, adding another minority onto it always seemed like a bad idea. No one ever believes it when you say you're bi, either. You start hearing people talk when they think you're out of earshot.” He threw on a good, sarcastic mockery voice, one that left no doubt he was quoting from memory and not making things up, “'Poor Joker, he's just going through a phase because he's given up on girls after driving them all away.' 'Who's Moreau think he's kidding, anyway? Why doesn't he just admit he's a fag? It's not the twentieth century anymore, after all.' Didn't need to worry about it once everyone knew I was better. Guess you didn't need to worry about _that_ , huh?”

“People in space don't care about this kind of thing all that much,” Dylan sighed. “Until you get to OCS for us grunts. Then it's just another thing they insult you with to break you down while you were flying fighters around the moon.” He poked Joker in the side with his elbow; very lightly. Joker let him continue instead of responding to the barb. “Helps being a biotic, though; no one picks on the scrawny little O-1 when they realize he can throw you out a window with his brain, and your men call you 'butterbars' behind your back a lot less, too.”

“Scrawny?” Making a show, probably on purpose, of sitting up so he could look at Dylan from head to toe and back again, Joker raised his eyebrows. He said, “You were scrawny?”

“Yep, s'why I don't miss hitting the weights even for a day.” Dylan's pride was somewhat blunted by the fact that he _had_ missed a couple of days recently, but he felt it was justified. “Except for the days involving raids on bases next to black holes, things like that. Anyway, the worst that happened was probably Mom crying for a few minutes...she really wanted grandkids, I think it still bothers her, somewhat.”

“Sorry, Shepard,” Joker squeezed his hand tighter, “Can't have ass-babies for you.”

“Not a problem.” Rolling a little onto his side, Dylan looked Joker in the eye, just laying there for a second. He reached up with his free hand, fingers sliding down Joker's jawline, thumb to his cheek. “Why'd you shave?”

“You mentioned you didn't like guys with beards,” Joker said.

Dylan chuckled. “I wasn't trying to drop hints...you didn't have to.”

“I know,” Joker still held his eyes. “See, I figure you just don't like guys with facial hair that's more masculine than yours. But hey, if that stubble's the best you can work up, can't say as I blame you.”

Pulling his hand away from Dylan's, he shuffled closer so they were shoulder to shoulder, arm going behind Dylan's head, pulling him close. Worried that Joker might not shut up, maybe just as worried than he would, Dylan tried to say something. “Jeff...”

As it turned out, Joker _did_ know when to shut up. He was also a really good kisser. It was a challenge, a borderline distraction to make sure he wasn't too rough, but Dylan managed so far, beating back the little thought in his mind about how slow and gentle wasn't usually the way he handled things in bed, taking his time in getting an arm around Joker's back.

Despite not being able to take being manhandled very much, Joker could still manage his fair share of it. Practically shoving his tongue down Dylan's throat, he pushed the large Marine over onto his back, rolling up on top. Finally breaking the kiss, Joker sat up and hooked his thumbs under Dylan's shirt, pulling up hard enough for it to be surprising.

Raising his arms, letting Joker yank off what was effectively half of his Cerberus duty uniform, Dylan felt his breath catch in his throat. Mordin's advice aside, he hadn't quite expected this much aggression. He found himself painfully aware of the erection suddenly tenting out his pants, Joker all the while scootching back and straddling his knees.

“You alright?” Joker said, suddenly. “You look like you're forgetting to breath.”

“Just nervous,” Dylan admitted. “I'm used to being more...direct. I feel like I'm doing something wrong.”

“Hey, you can touch,” Joker said. “Just don't squeeze, that'll be bad. Besides that, I've long-since mastered how to keep a guy entertained.” Hand going to the bulge in Dylan's pants, satisfied at the way Dylan squirmed when he started rubbing, Joker smiled, “Helluva lot easier than with women, too.”

“I bet.” Spurred on, Dylan sat up halfway and took Joker's shirt off the same way Joker had done to him, chuckling as Joker fought to keep his hat and failed, chuckling more when Joker picked it back up and put it right back on his head, turned backwards this time. He ran his hands through the hair on Joker's chest and back down his sides, caught off-guard again when Joker leaned down, not to kiss him but to kiss and nibble at his neck, sliding down and going across his chest, tongue and hands following every line of muscle, down to the trail of hair at his stomach. Joker tongued at that, too and promptly moved down, yanking Dylan's pants off in practically record time.

He moved back up and they kissed again, Dylan repeating the process but not finishing it, Joker shucking his trousers off a little more awkwardly once they were around his legs, but it let them keep going uninterrupted, grinding through their underwear while sucking face, harder and harder until Dylan lost a non-existent contest and moaned into his mouth first.

Taking that as a cue, Joker pulled back and rolled him over onto his stomach, leaving Dylan wanting for contact again as he realized Joker was taking in the sight of him like this, admiring him with no shame at all, crawling back on top and enjoying Dylan's body all the way again, starting at the small of his back and working his way up this time. Reaching the back of his neck, Joker abruptly stopped, massaging his shoulders gently. “I probably shouldn't touch that, huh?”

Feeling Joker's fingers rub a few inches away from his amp, Dylan let out a breath he hadn't known he was holding. “Its fine...as long as you don't pull the amp out, it'll keep crap from getting in my implant.”

Taking that as a cue, Joker moved his fingers closer, tracing the outline of the small, off-white bulb, getting braver and kissing gently near it, sucking a little each time, moving closer and closer until he hit the edge, Dylan bucking underneath him as he did.

“Do that more.” As muffled as Dylan's voice was with his face down on a pillow, it wasn't hard to understand him or notice the way his voice shook.

“Gladly,” Joker was more than willing to keep at it, now that he new biotic amps were erogenous zones. At least on Shepard, anyway. He teased him, kissing around his neck, leaving a good hickie and ignoring Dylan's amp completely before going back to it, tracing the edge with his tongue, feeling the large man underneath him shake, seeing his hands balled up in the sheets. He saw this as victory, because if Dylan was still thinking about how it didn't usually go like this for him, well, the man had serious ADD problems. Eventually, he moved back down, impatient to move on and get to something more fun. He crawled down Dylan's back, wasting no time in getting Dylan's skivvies off. “Spread 'em.”

“Giving orders on my ship now?” Despite his words, Dylan complied.

“Technically a civilian ship,” Joker reminded him, the sarcasm easy to hear. "To think, you thought you were getting lucky when I kept my pants _on._ "

Thinking he should've expected this, Dylan didn't have time to ponder it before his higher functions turned off while Joker worked more magic with his tongue. 'Magic' might've been an understatement, because Joker was, he realized, pretty good at this stuff.

Putting 'Joker' together with 'rim job' wasn't something Dylan would've thought sane a night earlier, but he stopped caring about sanity. “Jeff,” he managed to moan out after he didn't even know how long he spent writhing around, mashing his face into his pillow.

“Pull your knees up,” Joker grabbed his hips, tugging up so Dylan would get the idea. “Yeah, like that.” It turned out Joker had the common courtesy to give a reach-around, too, but he didn't stick with it for very long. “Hang on a sec.”

Glancing back, Dylan could plainly see the bottle of lube Joker retrieved from the pocket of his discarded trousers, tossing it once to himself, lightly, the bottle spinning once before it landed back in his hand.

He knew he should've seen that coming, too. It'd been a very, _very_ long time since he'd met a guy he'd let do this.

He didn't have any second thoughts.

 

\- - -

 

“Wait, less blankets. You're a human furnace. How the hell you can put out that much heat without any damn hair besides on your arms, I have no clue...”

“You're just jealous I'm smooth as a baby,” Dylan said, lazily shoving the sheets down to their waists. He was completely worn out, but not in a way he was going to complain about. Walking later on might be worth complaining over, but he wasn't planning on that for hours.

“Hey, chicks dig chest hair,” Joker half-whined. “And if it wasn't your hands running through it constantly a little while ago, I'd like to know whose.”

Deciding to let him have the last word, Dylan said, “C'mon, roll over. I usually roll onto my back, safer this way.”

“Right,” Joker said, the same lazy air in his voice. Once on his side, he pushed back when he felt Dylan press his chest to his back, letting the larger man wrap an arm over him.

Just as quickly, Dylan pulled back. “Wait,” he grabbed the extra pillow and, despite it being a somewhat cumbersome process, managed to get it between his knees. By extension, it ended up between Joker's knees, too. “That's better.”

“That's smart,” Joker smiled, Dylan's arm coming back around his chest. “Do the Marines train you how to spoon this good, Dill?”

“Mmm-hmm,” Dylan answered. “Puppy-piling. Part of AIT on Titan; we have to go through rough terrain without suits; they keep the atmosphere controlled, but they don't bother with heat." Yawning, Dylan lazily added, "You get hosed off at the end, you strip, and everyone piles up to share body heat."

"That's...not at all what I was expecting, but what the hell, it's a good answer." Dylan's yawning proving contagious, Joker followed suit. “So."

“Satisfied?”

Dead-serious, Joker's answer was, “Not unless the next words out of your mouth are, 'we're doing this again.'”

“We're doing this again,” Dylan said.

“Good,” Joker turned his head down, kissing Dylan's arm on account of its accessibility. “Told you I'd make it good.”

Idly, Dylan ran the top of his thumb along the rim of Joker's hat, tracing the line. "You plan on sleeping with this?"

Shifting slightly, confused, Joker eventually realized what Dylan found strange. "Wouldn't be the first time, not by a long shot." He tugged the hat off his head and tossed it to the floor with his clothes.

Dylan pulled closer, his face at the back of Joker's neck, breath giving him goosebumps that he didn't see as he closed his eyes. He ran that hand through Joker's hair. "It looks good on you anyway."

Joker answered, “Well, I'll be sure to remember it next time.”

Along with, he thought, Mordin's diagrams for how to have fun with biotics. Next time was too far away to think about in-depth for now, though, and Joker didn't bother trying before sleep came for them both.


End file.
